Doll
by serenity despairs
Summary: One day, our dear old Voldy feels the need to glam himself up. And if magic or potions can't help, who's to say muggle surgery wouldn't? And what better way to start than from the top?


**Doll – Of hair (or lack thereof)**

Lord Voldemort was smart, charming and dashing no more. Granted, he was still powerful, idle and had twice as much money as time, but that just wouldn't do!

It used to be that all his followers combined (excluding Wormtail) were not half as handsome as he! He couldn't bear to so much as to glance at them for all their ugliness! And the monstrosity that they regarded as hair! It was a wonder indeed that no one had ever mentioned it!

Well... except for Lucius' whose hair was _almost_ on par with what his used to be...

Anyway, the main point is that he was now uglier than Wormtail. He couldn't stand to see any of his followers because he would probably AK all of them on sight.

_Especially_ Lucius Malfoy, with his platinum blond hair, which was finer than a single strand of spider silk, skin smoother than cream and a figure that men would die for and females would swoon over to boot.

And the reason he so desperately sought to kill Harry Potter was because he looked _exactly_ like him. Not the usual misconception that Harry was going to defeat him (in fact, for the life of him, he couldn't understand why anyone would resort to such drastic measures over such trivialities); it didn't really matter as long as they put a picture of his young self (with the award-winning smile, of course) in the history books, never to be forgotten...

That was why he had stood up in the DE meeting, dismissed them and headed straight for his bedroom to "settle more pressing matters". Of course, none of them dared to ask "what".

* * *

As he stared into the mirror, he wondered what was missing, and then like a hit-and-stuck, he realized that there was something very wrong with his features. He snapped his fingers.

Wormtail came scuttling in, deathly afraid. Well, he wasn't to be blamed; those who entered usually didn't come out so sane. Rather, they didn't come out at all...

...that's why few ever strayed too close to a toilet in the mansion... it was 98 percent fatal...

...yes, Wormtail _could_ count and _did_ know his statistics...

**

* * *

**

.Bathroom.

Lucius bowed so low that he could feel his spine creak. He made a mental note to get to a spa for a back massage as soon as possible. Also, he was already late for his spine diagnosis! He might have his (perfectly aligned) spine bent!

"Oh, dispense with the formalities, your back will hurt!"

Lucius looked up in alarm; concern, usually, was the first sign of the Dark Lord's unease. "Come closer." Voldemort beckoned to him, crooking his finger.

Lucius complied, breaking Voldemort's bubble of privacy; the Dark Lord normally preferred all humans to stay at least 2 metres away from him for _reasons unknown_...

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" At the simple, obviously rhetorical question, Lucius instinctively walked all the way to the Dark Lord, bending over so as to be able to hear the secret.

"I want you to get me the best hairdresser in town." The _Dark Lord_ whispered conspiratorially into his ear. Lucius straightened and nodded; he was accustomed to such... unusual requests from the Dark Lord. Just like when...

_**Flashback**_

"Lucius, over here! Lock the door and cast a silencing charm." Voldemort dragged him to the bed.

"Remove your shoes! Quick, get on the bed!" Lucius obeyed, sitting on the bed Indian style (also known as "sitting cross-legged") Voldemort stood up on the soft, springy bed, wobbling dangerously. Lucius could do naught but raise an eyebrow questioningly. "No, this is no fun! Stand up! Now jump!" with that, the highly esteemed (and ever feared) Lord Voldemort bounced on his bed!

"Yeah! That's the way to go." Voldemort said, shaking his hips and bouncing. "One thing the muggles got right is this exercise, I saw it n TV!"

Lucius nodded, thoroughly understanding the phase the Dark Lord was going through. He remembered the time when he was 3 and his father had shipped a trampoline home. The simplicity, the freedom and most importantly... the fun!

He had been at it for weeks on end! So addictive...

And he promised to get one, the size of a pool, for Voldemort.

The obsession lasted until Bella came to ruin the fun...

He and the Dark Lord had been wearing white nighties and jumping about on the trampoline at 2 in the morning when Bella came back from the kitchens after a nice cup of melted marshmallows. She had shrieked and fainted on sight.

And who could blame her? The experience of glimpsing two fully-grown men in short dresses and _absolutely nothing_ underneath, in accordance with good old wizarding tradition, must have been traumatic.

Still, Lucius liked to think that it was the effect of the combined beauty of him and the Dark Lord, with their milky skin, flying like angels... (as people bouncing up and down happily are wont to imagine themselves to be)

The next day, the trampoline had been cleared and Bella was suffering from a severe case of amnesia...

Such fun times...

_**End of flashback**_

"It will be quite costly!" Lucius warned.

"Money is no object! You know that." Voldemort replied. Lucius nodded, understanding his boss' mentality. "Thank you, you are a life-saver!"

"Yes, my lord. The appointment would be tomorrow evening at the usual time and place." With that, Lucius left his master, who was in fact blubbering incoherently in his own mind at that very moment.

**

* * *

**

..Southern Wing..

"Cissa, we're going on a top secret mission tomorrow. The target is to be brought back alive. This is our Lord's request." Lucius felt around his pocket for a moment before pulling a picture out. "This man."

"Isn't he the world-acclaimed hairstylist?" Narcissa asked, instantly intrigued.

"Yes, he has something delicate that our Lord requires. Best not to fiddle around too much; the level of importance in this case is 5 stars."

Narcissa nodded, dumbstruck.

**

* * *

**

..12am, in the Dark Lord's favourite toilet..

Narcissa and Lucius kept their heads bowed as Voldemort inspected the bowed man. "Leave us, Narcissa."

"Yes, my lord." Narcissa bowed, utterly subservient to Voldemort.

The moment that Narcissa was safely out of the vicinity, Voldemort broke out into a huge (and monstrously deformed) grin. "You're a genius, Lucius! Quick, come untie him."

The moment the ropes were gone, the somewhat vertically-challenged man scrambled to kneel before the Dark Lord. "Have mercy on me, my lord! I've remained neutr-"

"Yes, yes, I'm not about to kill you, so just get on with it!" Voldemort snapped impatiently, nervous.

The hairstylist stared. "What?"

"I want hair on my head! Hair, dammit. And it has to be as good as Lucius'!"

The hairstylist nodded frantically. "Worry not, I have all my weapons with me, but you have to remember to eat peas for dinner every day." At this, the Dark Lord winced visibly. "It's a secret recipe to promote hair growth."

"Fine." Voldemort ground out, still dreading the prospect of eating peas.

And so, the hairstylist began his work on Voldemort's...

...Hairline-receding problems...

He finished it fast. "Remember to eat peas, my Lord. By the way the quality of hair regrowth depends on the original quality of your hair; I can only improve it so much."

And so, he left...

**

* * *

**

.. The next day..

"Lucius, come quick!" Voldemort whispered urgently into the handphone.

"Yes, my lord." Lucius resisted the urge to bow.

"Oh! And Lucius?"

"Yes?" Lucius tried his best to remain seated where he was instead of standing up and nodding to the Dark Lord's every word.

"I need a carton of gel."

"No problem."

The Dark Lord hung up, absentmindedly chewing on the antenna of his cell. He looked down at the locks of his now wavy hair; yes, he would need _loads_ of gel.

**

* * *

**

.. Northern Tower, 9am, on the bed..

"Lucius, stop fawning over my hair and just cut it." Voldemort was annoyed. His hair was now three times his height – and you know what they say about too much of a good thing.

"Such hair, my lord! How could you bear to!"

**35 minutes ago...**

"Gel it up, Lucius, quick."

"There isn't enough gel, my lord. Your hair is too long; you can either braid it or cut it."

After 30 minutes of braiding...

"Lucius, cut it."

"Must we?"

"Lucius, stop fawning over my hair and just cut it."

Reluctantly, Lucius retrieved a pair of scissors and after caressing the hair for a moment, cut it.

Voldemort gazed into the mirror, admiring his hair in satisfaction. As he looked, he realised that something was very wrong. His nose...

It used to be sharp and aristocratic, but had since been reduced to mere slits. He _had_ to have a rhinoplasty!

Now, that was the big problem for Lucius Malfoy, who, contrary to popular belief, had never had a plastic surgery before.

And it seems that his worry was evident as on a particular morning, while he was flipping through a beauty magazine, his son bounded cheerfully up to him and asked seriously, with a straight face, "Father, are you suffering from your midlife crisis?"

At that unfortunate point in time, as Lucius just so happened to be sipping his top-quality java, he choked violently on it, thus splattering it all over the page devoted to plastic surgery.

Dammit.

Panicking, he immediately stood up, muttered that he had matters to attend to, and left.


End file.
